


An Adventure

by MellowMild



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowMild/pseuds/MellowMild
Summary: Follow-up to The Trojan Horse. The authorities think they're dead, and Raquel and Sergio are married. But when they go on a belated honeymoon cruise on their new sailboat, they get a little more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 42
Kudos: 155





	1. Hanoi

**Author's Note:**

> Go look at @fennethianell's lovely drawing of them and their filthy boat, then come back and read this story.

_Inigo Montoya: “Let’s look on the bright side: we’re having an adventure, Fezzik, and most people live and die without being as lucky as we are.”_

** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

**Chapter 1: Hanoi**

_“You think this is a trap then?” the Count asked.  
_ _“I always think everything is a trap until proven otherwise,” the Prince answered. “Which is why I’m still alive.”_

** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_One year after second heist  
_ _Palawan_

“It’s here!” There was the sound of running feet coming over the porch before Paula burst into the house. “Sergio, it’s here,” she reported breathlessly, and he grinned at her excitement.  
“It is? Let’s go have a look then,” he said and rose from his chair, holding out a hand to pull Raquel up from hers.  
They followed Paula down the path to the beach, the girl skipping ahead eagerly. As they cleared the palms and the sweep of the bay fell open before them, they saw it, and they stopped and smiled at each other.  
It was making its way across the bay, its white sail sparkling in the sun, the handsome mahogany hull gently cleaving the water. It was a beauty, and it was theirs. Their very own sailboat.

“Come on!” Paula urged, and they made their way along the beach to the jetty to await its arrival. Sergio and Raquel had been taking sailing lessons for the last year and had both obtained their skippers licences recently, and as soon as they had done so they had bought their own boat. Nothing fancy or ostentatious, just a motorsailer that could be handled by a crew of two but was spacious enough to comfortably accommodate the whole family. All four of them. Two years later and Sergio was still caught off-guard by the realisation that he had a family. Raquel was his wife, he had officially adopted Paula, and Marivi had become like his own mother to him. He was the luckiest man in the world.

They watched as the delivery crew took in the sail and let the boat drift alongside the jetty. Raquel beamed up at him and he stepped forward to catch the rope and tie it down. As soon as the two men had disembarked Paula scrambled over the railing.  
“Careful!” Raquel admonished, but by the time she finished speaking Paula’s head was already disappearing below deck. Sergio signed the delivery sheet and the two men nodded and walked away towards the main road, where their pick-up was waiting. He moved to stand by Raquel’s side and they surveyed their new baby in silence.  
“What do you think?” Sergio asked eventually.  
“Gorgeous,” Raquel enthused and threw her arms around him. “I can’t wait to take her out.”  
Sergio grinned and kissed her, just a peck at first, but she came back for more, following him when he pulled away and fusing their lips together again. Two years of living together and they still necked like teenagers at every opportunity. Long may it continue, he thought cheerfully.

“Mama?”  
They pulled apart at the sound of Paula’s voice and turned towards her. By now she was used to seeing them kiss and had stopped being embarrassed by it.  
“Yes baby?”  
“Can we sleep on the boat tonight? We can bring a picnic and watch the sunset,” she said excitedly, and Raquel smiled indulgently.  
“That actually sounds nice,” she agreed, turning to Sergio, and he nodded his agreement. “Why don’t you run and tell Grandmama, and ask Privi to start preparing something? I’ll be along to help in a minute.”  
Paula dashed off and Sergio turned to follow her, but Raquel grabbed his hand and held him back. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
“I thought we-“ he began, pushing his glasses up his nose, but then he saw the glint in her eye and his heart-rate sped up. He knew that look, and it had the ability to turn him on in an instant.  
“We need to christen it,” she said, dragging him onto the boat, “preferably without an audience.”  
“They’ll be waiting for us,” he pointed out, but it was not an objection _per se_ \- more of a reminder.  
Raquel looked at him over her shoulder, her expression wanton, and he was incapable of denying her anything when she looked at him like that. “A quickie, then,” she said and disappeared down the stairs, already pulling her shirt over her head. He followed her down, almost tripping over in his haste.

As soon as he joined her she reached for his shirt and began unbuttoning it, lifting onto her toes to kiss him at the same time. They undressed each other in a flurry of hands and once they were both naked, he picked her up, one hand supporting her buttocks, and backed up until he could sit down on the couch. She straddled him and he was already half-hard as she sought out his mouth once more. They kissed feverishly, unable to get enough of each other, and he felt her juices release against him as she became more and more turned on. It was all that was needed to get him fully erect, and she lifted her hips and positioned herself above him. He stared into her eyes as she sank down on him, sheathing him in her wet heat, and he watched her head tip back and a soft gasp escape her at the sensation. The corners of her mouth curled up in bliss and he was enraptured; he, Sergio Marquina, was putting that expression on this beautiful woman’s face. They began to move together, slow at first, but they were both incredibly turned on by the experience and the tempo soon picked up. She rode him with abandon and he followed her lead, bucking up into her on every downstroke until he saw the blush begin to spread over her breasts, and knew that she was close. Thank God, he wouldn’t last much longer himself, but he was determined that she would come first today. He put some extra effort into the next few thrusts, burying himself deep inside her, and she shattered around him, clutching his neck and gasping her release into his waiting mouth.  
“Ah, God.”  
That was all it took for him to fall over the edge, and it was her turn to breathe in his sigh of bliss. She buried her face in his neck as she continued to undulate against him, and he breathed against her cheek until his heart-rate slowed down to manageable levels. Then he hunted for her mouth and they kissed slow and deep, before they finally began to disentangle from each other.

As they walked back to the house hand-in-hand, Sergio suddenly turned to her. “So what _are_ we going to call it?”  
She stopped and stared at him, then burst out laughing. “I haven’t thought that far,” she confessed, and he shook his head at her in mock despair.  
“So much for christening it,” he teased, and she laughed again.  
“Mmm. I guess we’ll just have to do it again,” she teased back, and he felt himself twitch in response. Yes, indeed, they would just have to do it again.

_One month later_

Sergio staggered down the boat’s stairs with a crate of fresh fruit and dumped it in the tiny kitchenette, where Raquel was stashing some canned goods into the cupboards. “That’s the last of it,” he informed her, and she nodded.  
“Good. There’s not much space left.” She eyed the crate dubiously. “Do we really need all of that?”  
Sergio straightened his back and pushed his glasses up his nose, and she smothered a smile. She knew the signs by now; he was about to launch into one of his lectures. “The biggest health risk on sea voyages is scurvy. It’s a terrible disease, Raquel. It causes swelling of limbs, debilitating pain and spontaneous bleeding, not to mention ulceration of the gums and loss of teeth. We need lots of fresh produce to prevent it.”  
She nodded, straight-faced. “It does sound horrible,” she agreed. “But darling, we’ll be gone for two weeks at the most. How many cases of scurvy have been recorded in that short a time?”  
He gave her a stern look. “If everything goes according to plan we’ll be away for two weeks. But what if something goes wrong and we’re out there for much longer?”  
She smiled at him, her wonderful, over-planning, always-anticipate-the-unexpected husband, and reached up to give him a kiss. “Fine. I’ll find a space for them,” she acquiesced, and he pulled her to him for a quick cuddle. They were about to take the sailboat on a trip around the southern islands as a sort of belated honeymoon, just the two of them, and he looked forward to it enormously.

In the last month they had practiced their sailing skills on an almost daily basis, and there had already been two weekend trips with the whole family. By now he was confident that they knew what they were doing and understood the _Hanoi_’s quirks and peculiarities. Yes, they had named their boat _Hanoi_. They had both agreed that they wanted to name it after a city, as a sort of homage as to how they had met, and as soon as Raquel’s eyes lit up and she uttered the name of the café where they had seen each other for the first time, he had known that it was perfect. Who knew, maybe one of these days they could take the whole family on a sailing trip to Vietnam and visit that city. But this time it would only be the two of them. When Paula had asked to go on a school outreach programme during her summer holiday to assist communities that had been badly affected by the last typhoon that had swept through the region, Raquel had readily agreed, proud of her daughter’s social conscience. And the realisation that she would be away for two weeks had spawned the idea of a belated honeymoon, for it meant they could go without feeling guilty about leaving her behind. So when Sergio pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, she hummed into his chest in contentment.  
“Ready for your honeymoon, Mrs Marquina?” he murmured, and her laugh was muffled against his shirt.  
“Yes I am. Are you ready, Mr_ Murillo_?” she asked pointedly and he laughed as well. It was an old joke between them, but it never got old.  
She lifted her chin and he lowered his mouth to hers. “I’m ready,” he confirmed, before capturing her lips lovingly. It promised to be a wonderful trip.

_Day 1 of honeymoon  
_ _Late afternoon_

They dropped anchor an hour before sunset. There had been a fair wind and they had made good progress, and now there was no land in sight anywhere. It was just the _Hanoi _and an expanse of ocean, and the sun setting spectacularly on the horizon. They made paella with lots of fresh seafood – it was the first night of their honeymoon and she was determined to make it special – and sat out on deck with a glass of wine whilst they waited for it to cook. She sighed blissfully and leant against his shoulder, and he smiled down at her. They talked idly, simply enjoying one another’s company, and watched the stars come out one by one. After they had washed up and stashed everything securely they went back out on deck, and he pointed out the various constellations to her. She let him talk, loving his enthusiasm and the sound of his voice, and when she began to undress him he eagerly reciprocated. Soon the only sounds were the soft slap of the swells against the hull and the creaking of the rigging in the breeze, as they lost themselves in an ardent kiss. But after a while their sighs and moans of enjoyment mingled in, and even later, as they began to lose control and made love with abandon, there was also the sound of flesh colliding with flesh again and again, until she cried out in ecstasy and he groaned his release soon afterwards.

It was as they lay tangled together and stared up at billions of pricks of light above and around them that she spotted a blinking red star close to the horizon.  
“Which one is that?” she asked, pointing it out to him, and he put on his glasses again to have a look.  
“Hmm. I don’t think that’s a star,” he responded. “It’s probably a boat.”  
They thought nothing further of it, until the next day. When dawn broke they could see that it was indeed a boat. For a couple of hours it remained a low shape on the horizon, its course seemingly running parallel to theirs. But by midday it suddenly changed direction, and they could see it drawing steadily nearer. Sergio went up to the highest part of the deck and had a long look at it through the binoculars, and when he came back he had a thoughtful expression.  
“Is it another sailboat?” Raquel asked, and he shook his head slowly.  
His gaze met hers and she froze at the worry she saw in his eyes. “No.” He took a breath. “I think it’s pirates.”

_tbc_


	2. Irony

_The Sicilian: “You are trying to kidnap what I have rightfully stolen, and I think it quite ungentlemanly.”_

** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 2 of honeymoon_  
Raquel stared at him. “Pardon?”  
“Pirates,” Sergio repeated, and she stared some more. Then, to his consternation, she laughed. “Raquel?” he said and reached out a hand to her, but she waved it away.  
“No, see, for a moment there I thought you said we were being followed by pirates.”  
“Er…”  
She laughed again, harder this time. “I think you mean ‘harr’”, she said in between guffaws. “As in, harr matey.”  
It was Sergio’s turn to stare. Then he stepped forward and took her face between both hands. “Raquel, love,” he said firmly, “this is not a joke. We are being followed by pirates.”  
“Right.” She made an effort to be serious, but the corner of her mouth kept twitching. “How do you know – were they flying the flag with the skull and crossbones?” she asked, before dissolving into peals of laughter again.  
“For God’s-“ Sergio exclaimed, looking to the heavens in disbelief. Then he tightened his grip on her head and forced her to look him in the eye. “No, they’re not flying the Jolly Roger. Modern pirates don’t do that. I know because there has been an increase in pirate attacks by Islamic militants around the southern islands in the last year, and I have read those reports carefully. The boat fits the description – low and sleek, flaking grey paint on the hull, and rusty top-structure. We’re being followed by pirates.”

Raquel stopped laughing. She searched his face and when she didn’t find any hint that he was pulling her leg, she grabbed the binoculars that were dangling round his neck. “Give me those.”  
She marched to where he had stood minutes earlier and looked at the other boat. Grey flaking paint. Rusting top-structure. Low and sleek. No Jolly Roger. In fact, no flag or visible name at all. Shit.  
She came back slowly to where Sergio still stood, his arms dangling by his side. “We’re being followed by pirates,” she informed him, and he nodded gravely.  
“Yes.”  
“Well… _Fuck_,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Of all the filthy rotten luck,” she added, wondering what the hell they had done to piss off the universe. Because piss it off they must have, otherwise why did these bad things keep happening to them? They must be cursed.

They stood side by side and observed the other boat. It looked to be gaining on them, not particularly fast, but gaining all the same.  
“Can we outrun it?” Raquel asked, and Sergio shook his head.  
“Unlikely. It may look old, but you can be sure they have a powerful engine in there.”  
“So what do we do?”  
He ducked into the wheelhouse and grabbed the nautical chart. After a quick glance at the instruments he joined her in the stern again and spread it open. “We are here,” he stated, stabbing his finger on the map, and she saw with dismay that ‘here’ was pretty damn far from anything that might provide shelter. “We’re doing about 17 knots. If we keep on like this, with only wind-power, they’ll catch up with us by tomorrow.” He stared at the chart, chewing his lip. “However, if we use the engine as well, we may be able to reach this small atoll before they catch up with us.” He looked up at her.  
She peered at the map. “That atoll is uninhabited,” she objected, “what good would that do?”  
“I’ll drop you off and then draw them away,” he argued, and her head snapped round to him.  
“What?”  
“You can take the emergency beacon-“  
“No.“  
“-and a passing ship will eventually pick you up and take you to a port.”

She glared at him. She understood what he was trying to do – keep her safe – but there was no way in which she would abandon him. “It’s a terrible plan,” she stated bluntly and he closed his eyes.  
“Raquel-“  
“What if whoever picks up the emergency signal informs the Coast Guard and they come to the atoll? My photo will end up in the system, and sooner or later someone will realise I’m supposed to be dead.”  
He had nothing to say to that, so she continued. “And how are you going to handle this boat by yourself? It needs a two-man crew.”  
His expression was pained and she laid a hand against his cheek as her voice softened. “I know you’re trying to protect me, and I love you for it. But it’s foolhardy, and it’s unnecessary.” Her thumb traced his skin lovingly. “We have a better chance if we stick together, don’t you think?”  
He wouldn’t meet her eyes and she ducked her head until he had no choice but to look at her. “Stronger together, remember?” she reminded him, and he smiled wanly.  
“All right.”  
“Good. Now, come on, Professor. We’re smarter than them. Let’s figure out a plan.”

As Raquel had pointed out, they couldn’t call on the Coast Guard for help. They were in a boat bought with ill-gotten gains, and any attempt to raise the alarm would probably lead to their arrests. The irony was not lost on either of them. Nor could they sail into the nearest port and hope that someone would help them – that would only endanger the lives of the locals. Their best option, therefore, was to try and lose their pursuers somehow. They huddled around the chart and discussed the possibilities. Their original aim had been to sail south and around Tawi-Tawi Island, but if they stuck to that the pirates would catch up with them before they got within sight of land.  
“We need to change course and head for Topaan Island,” Sergio decided. “There are lots of small atolls at its northern tip and if we can get in amongst those, their superior speed won’t matter so much.”  
Raquel nodded, but her mind was not entirely on the chart.  
“If only we had a weapon,” she mused, feeling rather naked without the Inspector’s holster and gun, “then we’d have a chance. I suppose we could try to do something with the flare-gun- what?”  
He had given her a smug look and got to his feet. “Actually,” he said cryptically, and she followed him to the engine hatch. He opened it and drew out a package wrapped in waterproof material. Her eyes widened as he rolled it open on the deck to reveal two handguns and an automatic rifle.

She lifted her gaze to his in astonishment. “Not that I’m not ecstatic to see those, but what the hell, Sergio?”  
He shrugged. “The authorities may think we’re dead, but that is no guarantee that we won’t run into an alert law enforcement officer somewhere. I have to be prepared for that – to protect you and Paula and Marivi-“  
The rest of his explanation was cut off as she grabbed his head and kissed him. Bless him and his meticulousness. She had never been more glad for it.

Sergio watched on as she picked up the automatic and expertly slammed in a full magazine, then said with relish, “I think those pirates are in for a surprise. They picked the wrong people to mess with.” But as soon as the words left her mouth a disconcerting thought came to her.  
“Wait a minute.” She turned to him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Or was that your plan all along?”  
He froze. “I’m sorry?”  
“The decision to sail around the southern islands when you knew there had been increased pirate attacks,” she began, ticking the items off on her fingers. “The guns conveniently on board. Even the stupid fruit – is that why we brought enough for an army? Because you hoped we’d run into the pirates?”  
“Raquel-“  
“What, did you think we needed another challenge? That life was too boring without the prospect of another heist? Or have you begun to believe that you really are Robin Hood and now you want to save the islanders from the scourge of these pirates?!”  
He lifted a placating hand. “Calm down-“  
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”  
Sergio breathed deeply in an effort not to rise to her anger. “Where is all this coming from?” he asked in puzzlement. She turned away, rubbing her forehead and he continued, trying to keep his voice even. “We decided on the route together, remember? _You _were the one that was keen to take a run at sailing the Tandubatu Strait.”  
That was true, and she sighed and placed a conciliatory hand against his chest. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She smiled at him morosely. “I guess I was hoping that we were here by design rather than luck, which at least would mean we’re not cursed.”  
He put a hand over hers. “I don’t think we’re cursed,” he responded with certainty. “Cursed people aren’t this happy, are they?”  
Raquel stared at him, then let her shoulders relax with a soft smile. Sometimes he could inadvertently say the most wonderful things, and it was just what she needed in that moment. But before she could respond, a beep from the wheelhouse called their attention back to the matter at hand.

Sergio moved inside and she scrambled after him. They scanned the instrument panel and he pointed to the barometer. “It’s falling,” he pointed out needlessly; she could see that for herself. Unbelievable.  
“So on top of being followed by pirates, we’re about to get caught in a storm?”  
Sergio turned to the bow to scan the horizon, and he could indeed see the tips of the first towering cumulonimbus clouds appearing. Of all the filthy rotten luck indeed - they were sandwiched between bad weather and pirates. “I’m afraid so.”  
Raquel rolled her eyes. _Of course_. “What was that you were saying about not being cursed?” she demanded, hands on hips, but he didn’t respond immediately. He watched as the needle continued to fall, indicating that severe weather was on the way, and an idea began to form. Afterwards, he would never be sure whether it had been in the back of his mind all along, or whether it was Raquel accusing him of it that germinated it, but the more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him. However, he would need help to pull it off. He took a breath and turned to the love of his life.  
“I think we can use it to our advantage.”

Raquel’s eyes snapped to his, a frown etched between them. She searched his face and he knew she could read him like a book. “Oh God.” She began to laugh, and he wasn’t sure whether it was out of horror or amusement. “You actually want to do it, don’t you? You want to take on those pirates.”  
Sergio didn’t say anything, but his expression told her all she needed to know.  
“Are you kidding me?!” She turned away, running a hand through her hair. When she swung back to him there was fear in her eyes, but also something else. Excitement. The smell of the chase she had lived by for so many years. “These are _pirates_, Sergio. Islamic militants who kidnap people for ransom, and who have killed before and will not hesitate to kill again. This is not the Spanish Police, who have rules they have to abide by which you can use to your advantage.”  
“I know. Which is why they have to be stopped. Obviously the Philippine authorities aren’t up to it, so…”  
“So you want to play Robin Hood.”  
He stepped closer to her. “They’ll never expect it. We’ll have the element of surprise.” She was wavering; he could sense it. “The reports indicate there are five of them.” Another step closer. “We can handle five unsuspecting men between us.” She bit her lip and he played his last card. “We’ll be doing the Philippine people a big service, and at the same time ensure these pirates are not around next time we take the family out on the boat.”  
Raquel gave him a look; she knew exactly what he was doing, but it was working all the same.

She walked away from him, horrified that she was actually considering it. It would be idiotic to place themselves in direct danger, and yet… It was in that moment that Raquel learnt something about herself that she had not been aware of before; that she was as much an adrenaline junkie as the Professor and the rest of his band of robbers. She threw up her hands in surrender. “Oh, fuck it. All right.”  
She came back to him and grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, and kissed him hard. “Let’s go pirate-hunting, Professor.”

_tbc_


	3. Disaster

_“Enough about my beauty,” Buttercup said. “Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I’ve got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 2 of honeymoon  
_They devised a plan of sorts. It had way too many uncontrollables for Sergio’s liking, but what could he do? This was the risk one had to accept when improvising on the spot. The plan went as follows: maintain their current course until the storm hit and pretend they had no inkling that anything was amiss. The aim was to lull the pirates into a false sense of security. Once inside the storm they would change course and make a run for Topaan. The pirates would be able to track them on radar, but would hopefully chalk up the change in direction to the need to find shelter from the weather. They would try to find their way to the beginning of the Tandubatu Strait before the storm eased up, as the final phase of the plan required them to negotiate that challenging stretch of water with their pursuers hot on their heels. They hoped to get through the Strait and into open water with enough of a head-start to lay their trap for the pirate ship before it came through the narrow exit channel. Yes, there were a myriad uncontrollables and every chance that this could blow up in their faces. But now that the decision had been taken, neither of them was prepared to back down.

Sergio estimated that they had about two hours before the storm hit, and they used the time to prepare the boat. He spanned safety lines from the bow to the stern, so that they could fasten their storm harnesses to these whenever they had to move around the boat. That way, a freak wave or unexpected pitch would not wash them overboard. Raquel was busy below-deck, securely fastening everything that could fall, roll or shift and cause damage or influence the balance of the boat. If they were to negotiate the Tandubatu Strait successfully in choppy conditions, the boat would have to react to each change in steering exactly as expected, or they would run aground on the shallow reefs that made the strait so difficult to navigate. Sergio did the same on deck, and once he was finished he joined her below. They had one last thing to do. She was seated on the floor with a tarp spread out before her, on which various bits and pieces were laid out. When he came down the stairs she glanced up at him and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was muggy; the humidity was through the roof in the advent of the storm. “We can use the cordite from the flare, I think,” she suggested. “There‘s enough to make a suitable bang, but not so much that it would cause irreparable damage.”  
He nodded as he squatted down beside her. “Good. I’ll do that.”  
As she got up she squeezed his shoulder. “Oh, one more thing. I have another idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it – it involves that fruit of yours.”  
Her eyes sparkled at him and his heart swelled in response. God, she was wonderful. How many other women out there would willingly put themselves in danger like this, and with such enthusiasm? Perhaps that was what had attracted them to one another in the first place; perhaps subconsciously they had sensed this shared taste for adventure in each other.

_One hour later  
_Everything was done and ready, and now all they could do was wait. This was the worst part of any operation, the quiet before the storm (literally, in this case) when there was nothing to do but fret about everything that could go wrong. They stood side by side in the wheelhouse, already kitted out in their storm harnesses, and the bright yellow oil slicks lay ready at hand for when the rain came. They were still under full sail, the _Hanoi_ running before a stiffening wind as the storm approached, and they were making good speed. But soon the sails would have to be trimmed; once the wind began to gust, it would be too dangerous to keep them up. They would have to rely on the engine during the storm itself.

Raquel turned aft and checked on the pirate vessel; it was now much closer and easily visible with the naked eye. Its white bow-wave indicated that it was moving at a high speed – clearly they were determined to be as close as possible to their prey before the storm hit. When she turned to the bow, dark clouds roiled menacingly not too far away from them, and anxiety gnawed at her stomach. They must be nuts to attempt this. She glanced at Sergio, at the concentration on his face as he continuously scanned the instruments, gauging the speed at which both their pursuers and the storm was closing in; making sure that the weather would be the first to catch up with them.  
“Do you think Paula is doing all right?” she found herself asking into the tense silence, and Sergio’s gaze turned to her. “She’s never been away from home for this long – not on her own,” she added, well aware of what she was doing; she wasn’t a trained psychologist for nothing. Transference of her anxiety onto her daughter.  
Sergio knew it too. He smiled and said, “I’m sure she’s fine. Paula is her mother’s daughter through and through, and because of that I know that she is incredibly brave and stronger than anyone I have ever known.” He held out an arm and she moved into his embrace willingly. They held each other, taking comfort from the physical contact, and for a while neither said anything as they watched the storm move closer and closer. Eventually Sergio turned his head to her, and she lifted her mouth to his without hesitation. They kissed ardently, mouths open to devour each other, swallowing each other’s breath. When lack of oxygen forced them apart, he pressed his forehead against hers, unwilling to give up on their closeness so soon.  
“Raquel.” Her name was a prayer on his lips, a declaration of unending devotion, and her hands came up to grasp his cheeks in response.  
"I know.”  
They looked into each other’s eyes as the seconds ticked by, until the sail snapped in a gust of wind and broke the tension.  
“It’s time,” Sergio declared, then squeezed both her hands in his.  
She nodded resolutely, and with a last lingering look turned and left the wheelhouse to bring in the sails. As she did so the first fat drops of rain began to spatter the deck, and when she glanced behind her the pirate vessel was close enough for her to make out the men moving about.

She had barely made it back into the wheelhouse before the storm hit in full force. Rain sheeted down and almost immediately visibility was down to a few metres. The wind buffeted the _Hanoi_ and Sergio struggled to keep the bow perpendicular to the onrushing swells. He reached for the button and switched on the engine, and they looked at each other in relief when it rumbled into life and the boat began to obey the steering wheel with the added power. He gradually brought them round onto their new course, and then they both settled in for the long haul. Darkness was falling around them and soon the only light available was from the instrument panel.

Raquel had already experienced two typhoons in her time on the island, but for those she had been safely inside a house that had been built to withstand such elements. This was infinitely worse. Their little boat was tossed around like a toy, shuddering under the onslaught, and fear gripped her. What had possessed them to take on both the weather and a bunch of dangerous pirates? As the _Hanoi _staggered up the face of a huge swell and pitched down the other side she had to grab onto the pilot’s chair to remain upright, and as thunder cleaved the heavens and lit up everything, her lasting impression once the darkness descended again was of Sergio’s face, white and tense as he clung to the steering wheel. Oh, God, they were going to die. This storm was expected to last for four hours, and she wasn’t sure they or their boat would survive that long.

For two hours they battled on. Sometimes Raquel had to help Sergio with the steering, the two of them hanging onto the wheel together to keep the boat on course. She had made hot tea in a flask before the storm hit, and managed to get some of that into Sergio to keep him going. There was no talking; they had to shout at the top of their lungs to be heard above the noise of the storm, so they kept communication down to the most essential of words. And then the worst happened: out of nowhere a huge wave hit them from the side and dumped tonnes of broiling water over the boat with such force that the wheelhouse door burst open under the onslaught. They were both washed off their feet and there was an almighty crack, and the _Hanoi_ staggered and lurched dangerously. _This is it_, she thought dazedly, lying against the wall and watching the steering wheel spin, _this is the moment when the boat capsizes and we drown_. Paula’s face flashed before her, and she struggled to her feet with an impotent roar and lunged for the wheel. A split-second later Sergio forced the door closed once more and then joined her, and together they wrestled with the wheel to get the boat back under control. The _Hanoi _seemed to teeter on the edge of capsizing for an eternity, but thankfully there was no second wave and it dropped down onto its keel eventually. They looked at each other in relief, both drenched to the bone, but they could not relax. Whatever that crack had been, it was affecting the _Hanoi_’s manoeuvrability, and it took a herculean effort to keep the boat pointed towards the onrushing swells. When the next lightning strike lit up the sky, they saw why. The front boom was swinging loose. Someone would have to risk going out on deck to bring it under control and tie it down.

She closed her eyes in desperation and when she opened them again, Sergio shouted, “I’ll go! Keep her as straight as you can!”  
Her heart constricted and she grabbed onto his arm. This was madness, but there was no choice. If they didn’t fix it the next big wave would almost certainly mean their end. Her anguish must have been plain on her face because he lurched forward and pressed a kiss to her mouth, and she wasn’t sure whether the salt she tasted was from the seawater or tears. He staggered to the door and she watched with trepidation as he hooked his harness onto the safety line and made his way forward. Raquel clung to the steering wheel with all her might, but even so the boat lurched and shuddered and threatened to turn sideways. She could make out Serqio’s figure in the yellow oilskin struggling through the waves breaking over the bow, and a couple of times he was knocked off his feet and her heart stopped. But each time he got back up and staggered on, clinging to the railing.

At long last he reached the boom. By now he was exhausted; the wind lashed rain into his face and he could barely see. The boom swung round and he just had time to duck, and it missed his head by inches. He tried to gauge when it would come again so he could grab it, but it was too dark to see when the next wave would hit. The boat suddenly pitched forward, falling off the top of a wave into the valley, and he lost his footing and slithered forward until he whacked into the railing. _Shitfuckdammit_!! Pain radiated from his left shoulder and he lay there, stunned. He was momentarily overcome by an urge to just close his eyes and lie there forever, to give himself over to the darkness. But it barely lasted for a second before he remembered what he was doing, _who_ he was doing it with. _Come on, Sergio. Get up. Raquel can’t do this on her own_. Once more he hauled himself to his feet and then, miraculously, there was a sudden lull in the fury of the storm. The boat levelled out and he managed to grab the boom and lash it back into position with the spare fastener. He could see that the original had been snapped clean off and he used one of the sail’s ropes to lash it down even more securely. He could barely lift his left arm and he wondered in the back of his mind whether he had broken or dislocated it. Satisfied at last that it wouldn’t come loose again, he turned back towards the wheelhouse. Lightning lit up the sky and that’s when he saw it – a monstrous wave curling above the boat, ready to dump tonnes of water onto his head. He didn’t even have time to be afraid before it hit, and he was washed off his feet in an instant. He swallowed water, lots of it, and fought desperately to breathe. He was drowning and the panic began to rise. The harness snapped taut and he was yanked backwards, and cracked his head hard on something.  
He couldn’t-  
he was falling…  
drowning…  
fighting to stay conscious, but it was a losing battle. The blackness enveloped him, and then there was nothing at all.

_tbc_


	4. Perseverance

_Buttercup: “I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 2 of honeymoon  
__Close to midnight  
_Raquel saw it happen. Her agonised scream of “Sergio!” was drowned out by the bang of the wave slamming down on the boat, and she was knocked against the wall by the force of it. The boat yawed and shuddered and she thought that this time it was over. She looked up to see green seawater across the windows of the wheelhouse, and for a few seconds she lay there in the belief that they were sinking. They were below the water and soon the pressure would crush the windows and it would rush in. But then, wondrously, the _Hanoi_ staggered upwards again and the deck cleared of water, and she scrambled to her feet and back to the wheel. _Oh God, Sergio_. Where was he?! She saw a smudge of yellow and her heart leapt; his harness had held and he was still on board. But her relief did not last for long; he wasn’t moving, and she gulped against the panic that was rising. She stared at his form, willing him to get up as she struggled with the wheel and got the boat pointed at an angle to the onrushing swells once more. It handled easier now that the boom was securely fastened and when, after a few seconds, he still hadn’t moved, her decision was made.

Anger welled up in her chest and she grit her teeth. _No_. This was not how it would end. If the universe wanted to take Sergio from her, it would fucking well have to fight her for him. After all the obstacles they had overcome to be here - together, happy and on their honeymoon, she would hold on with all her strength and the storm would have to wrestle him from her cold, dead fingers if it wanted to claim him. She locked the wheel into position. It was a risk – if another wave hit them from the side whilst it was locked it would most likely break the steering and then they would be truly fucked, but there was no choice. She clipped her harness onto the safety line and fought her way towards him. It was into the wind and it took a tremendous effort, but she reached him in record time, breathing hard. He was lying on his stomach and she heaved him over, and her heart stopped. _Blood_. Oh, God, there was so much blood. But much, much worse, was that she couldn’t detect any breathing. _Oh, no. Please Sergio, don’t give up on me_… She grabbed him under the armpits and with a howl of anguish began to drag him back to the wheelhouse. Fear and adrenaline and sheer force of determination gave her the strength she needed, and she got him back inside in less than a minute.

“Sergio.” Water was running down her face but she paid it no heed. Here, in the faint light from the instrument panel, she could see the blood was coming from a gash on his temple. She pressed her hand against his chest and could feel him struggling to breathe. Thank God, he was alive. She turned him on his side and thumped him on the back as hard as she could. It took three blows before he sputtered and began to cough up seawater, and at long last gulped oxygen into his screaming lungs. Raquel clutched him to her, sobbing into his hair in relief, but she only allowed herself a few seconds of this luxury before she carefully laid him back down and scrambled for the emergency kit.

Never in her life had she been more focussed. She worked fast and efficiently; cleaning the wound and then using the staple gun to close it. There was no time for a local anaesthetic and he groaned in pain as the staples went in, but was still too groggy to say anything. She bandaged his head and then injected him with a strong dose of morphine, not caring whether she bruised him in the process.  
“Sergio.” _Please. I can’t do this by myself_.  
His eyelids fluttered but did not open.  
“_Sergio_,” she said again, and perhaps it was the note of desperation in her voice that got through, for his eyes shot open and locked onto hers. He momentarily managed a smile, before pain clouded his eyes and they closed again.  
“Aahhh,” he groaned, and Raquel framed his face with her hands and forced him to look at her once more.  
“The morphine will kick in soon,” she consoled. “Do you know where you are?”  
“Hmph,” was all he managed to get out, and despair flooded her.  
“Sergio, _please_.”  
It took a herculean effort, but his eyes focussed once more. “…Boat. Pirates. Storm.”  
_Oh thank God_. “Yes. Can you stand?”  
He nodded weakly and held out a hand. She grabbed it and slung an arm around his waist, and helped heave him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily and she kept hold of him until he could sit down in the pilot’s chair. She unlocked the steering once he was in position and stood next to him, and together they kept the boat’s bow pointed in the right direction. Her arms were shaking from shock and fatigue and Sergio was faring even worse, but they managed it through team work.  
And then, thankfully, half an hour later, the storm abated.

_Day 3 of honeymoon  
__02:00  
_The rain was still sheeting down, but the wind had dropped and the waves no longer hurled themselves at the boat in fury. After a careful check of the instruments and their position, they agreed that they could risk putting the boat on autopilot for a few minutes and staggered down to the cabin, shell-shocked and exhausted. When Raquel saw Sergio in proper light for the first time, she nearly had a heart attack. He looked terrible; his face was deathly white and he had dark smudges under his eyes, and an ugly purple bruise ran from under the bandage and down to his beard. The whole left side of his face was caked with dried blood, and when she cajoled him out of his oilskin even his shirt underneath was streaked with it.  
He must have seen the shock on her face because he said manfully, “I’m all right.”  
_Right. And she was fucking Tinkerbell_. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes, hmm? And then we need to eat something warm,” she said instead, and fetched them both a new set of clothes from the sleeping area. When she helped him to take off his shirt he hissed in pain and she looked at him in alarm.  
“I hit my left shoulder on something,” he explained, and as she peeled off the wet shirt a purple-black bruise as big as both her hands was exposed. Jesus.  
She probed the area with careful fingers but couldn’t feel any breaks. Still, there could be hairline fractures that would only be picked up with x-rays. “Can you lift it?” she asked, and watched on as he carefully manoeuvred the arm around. Wincing in pain he managed to get it to just above shoulder height but no further. At least he had some movement, which was a good sign.  
She heated up a can of soup and they wolved it down along with some bread, grateful for the warmth and sustenance. They were both starving after their exertions. Raquel observed him carefully and noted each wince or stifled groan of pain. He really was in bad shape, and she took a breath.  
“Maybe we should call it off,” she suggested quietly, and his head came up sharply. “You can barely move,” she argued, “and we’re both exhausted – how on earth are we going to take on five grown men in this condition?”  
Sergio closed his eyes; she had a point, but unfortunately they had made their bed and would now have to sleep in it. “It’s too late, Raquel.” He looked at her apologetically. “They’re too close – there’s no way we’ll get away from them now.” He tried to smile reassuringly but even that fucking hurt. “We’ll just have to fight smarter than them.”

She watched him for long seconds, not saying anything, but eventually she sighed and came over to sit next to him. “All right.” She took his right hand and they leant into each other. But when he looked into her face, her expression was troubled and pensive.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and she turned to him.  
“Have you ever shot anyone?”  
He stiffened. “What?”  
Her eyes were on him unflinchingly. “Have you ever shot another person? Or even shot _at_ another person?”  
“I know how to handle a gun,” he deflected, but she shook her head.  
“That’s not what I’m asking.”  
He looked away, uncomfortable. “What’s this about?”  
She put a finger under his chin and turned his face back to her. “If we are to get out of this alive, Sergio, we may well have to shoot one or more of the pirates. I need to know that you can do that if required.”  
“If we execute the plan correctly, it won’t be necessary-“  
“Right, because your plans _always_ go off without a hitch,” she snapped, annoyed at his evasion, and he began to pull away from her. But she wouldn’t let him, clutching his hand and using her other to cradle the uninjured side of his head.  
“Darling. It’s not a criticism. Really.” She waited until his eyes found hers again before continuing. “Your aversion to violence is one of the things I love most about you. But as you once pointed out to me, sometimes life does not allow us to do the right thing. What I’m trying to say is, you need to be ready to do the wrong thing later today, otherwise we might not survive this. And I need you to be aware that shooting at another human being is a whole different kettle of fish than shooting at a paper target. Believe me, I know.”

His eyes softened as he finally grasped what this was about. “You had two Discharge of a Weapon notices on your record,” he recalled. “There were investigations and you were cleared on both occasions.”  
She nodded; sometimes she forgot that he knew everything about her police career, that he had studied it before the first heist. “Yes. But what my record didn’t tell you was how many hours of counselling I needed after each. It’s-“ she sighed and looked away, and her voice was dull as she continued. “It’s a terrible thing to live with, to know that you shot another human being, no matter how reprehensible they might have been. I want you to be prepared for that."  
It was his turn to exhale.  
“You’re right, I have never fired a gun at another person. But I swear to you, Raquel – if that is what is required to get you out of this alive, you can rest assured I will do what’s necessary.” He stared into her eyes, determined. “When I thought the Police had executed you during the second heist, I wished more than life itself to be the one in that bank to shoot the RPG-7 at them. To hurt them, like they had hurt you. I will do _whatever_ it takes to keep you safe.”  
There was no doubt about his sincerity, and tears gathered in her eyes. “Me too,” she promised him, and with that solemn vow to protect each other, they got down to the business of finalising their plan and preparations.

_Four hours later  
_By sunrise the rain had eased up and conditions were still choppy but much improved. They were exactly where they had hoped to be, close to the northern entrance into the Tandubatu Strait. They had taken turns to sleep two hours each, and felt much better for it. Sergio was still in considerable pain and Raquel persuaded him to accept another morphine injection. This would be over in three hours, one way or the other; they simply needed to get him through that. The stretch of water they were about to enter was notorious and had claimed many a victim, and Sergio needed to be at his best to guide them through it. Navigating the narrow channel between the Topaan and Taruk islands required precision; they would have to take into account many variables to plot their way through. Raquel had looked forward to the challenge, but that was before they had been pursued by pirates. Now they would have to navigate it at a much higher speed than they originally planned to, and their margin for error would therefore be much smaller. As she stood next to Sergio, ready for his first order, her stomach was filled with butterflies. He had recalculated the timing of each course adjustment they needed to make, and all she could do was hope that the bang on the head had not screwed up his mental faculties. If any of those calculations were out by as much as one second, they would flounder on the shallow reefs that lined the channel. And if that happened, they would stand no chance against the pirates. Their pursuers were close now; she could hear their engine throbbing in the background but resolutely blocked it out – all her attention needed to be on the job at hand. She took a deep breath and looked at Sergio, who stood in front of the instrument panel, stop-watch in hand and still covered in blood, and steeled herself.  
_Here goes nothing._

_tbc_


	5. Possum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no Tandubatu Strait - I made it up for dramatic purposes.

_Buttercup: “We’ll never survive!”_  
_Westley: “Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 3 of honeymoon  
__Daybreak_  
“Final check,” Sergio said, his eyes on the array of instruments before him, and she consciously relaxed her grip on the wheel. It was her job to steer and she knew from experience that she was more precise with a light touch. They had obtained a detailed chart of the channel from their sailing instructor, and on it Sergio had marked out the degrees of change in direction required at every turn. The calculations had to take into account wind speed, the strength of the current as well as their boat speed. Initially they had planned to do this under sail, but that would be suicidal in the current circumstances and she could feel the deck vibrate beneath her as the engine idled, waiting for her to release the throttle. She kept an eye on the radar and could see the pirate boat drawing closer, and vindictively hoped that they had also had a rough time during the storm. That would at least even the odds a bit. 

“Thirty seconds,” Sergio announced, and she picked up the pencil from the panel before her and tied up her hair.  
“Check,” she said, and made a minute adjustment to their course until it aligned precisely with the route marked on the electronic chart. When she looked up his eyes were on her, and they nodded at each other solemnly.  
He reached out and squeezed her hand, and then he said, “Go. One minute-fifteen seconds to Mark One. Speed ten knots.”  
“Roger that,” she responded and released the throttle, watching the speedometer like a hawk. “Ten knots.”  
The pirates would enter the strait less than twenty minutes behind them, but even if they knew the channel well they would not be able to move through it any faster than ten knots. This would hopefully give Raquel and Sergio enough time to set the trap they planned to spring on them once they reached the open water at the other side.  
“Mark One in ten seconds. Adjust twelve degrees to starboard.”  
“Twelve degrees starboard, check,” Raquel repeated, eyes glued to the chart.  
“In five, four, three, two, one, and turn.”  
She moved the wheel and the boat changed direction right on cue. “On new course now,” she confirmed and Sergio restarted the stopwatch.  
“Mark Two in three minutes-forty-seven seconds.”  
“Roger that,” she acknowledged, and they glanced at each other with relieved grins. They had got through the first turn without incident, which meant the calculations were on point. With a little luck, this might just work.

_Forty minutes later  
_They were nearing the end of the strait – there were only two turns to go and they would be through unscathed. Thus far they had functioned like a well-oiled machine and the sheer exhilaration of what they were doing kept them both alert. When she looked at him and saw the satisfied expression on his face she thought to herself: _God, we really are adventure junkies_. But they would do well not to get too cocky – the very last turn was the narrowest of all and they would have to get it exactly right, or they would rip a hole in the side of the hull on the sharp rocks that guarded the southern end of the strait.  
“Mark 16 in thirty seconds,” Sergio announced. “Adjust 21 degrees to port.”  
“21 degrees to port, check.” She flexed her shoulders to release some of the tension as she waited for the seconds to tick by.  
“In five, four, three, two, one, and turn.”  
She coaxed the wheel to the left. “On new course now,” she said, and heard him click the stopwatch once more.  
“Five minutes to final turn.”  
She raised her eyes to his and they shared a meaningful look. They were both acutely aware of the other engine rumbling behind them, and once or twice they had heard snatches of voices raised in alarm. It had buoyed their spirits (pardon the pun); apparently it had not been all plain sailing for the pirates. Perhaps their boat had suffered some damage during the storm, making it more difficult to manoeuvre through the Strait.

“You okay?” Sergio asked quietly, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. _What had brought that on_?  
“Yes. You?”  
He nodded, but didn’t look up from the stopwatch. “Three minutes.” He was being evasive and she didn’t like it.  
“Sergio.” He lifted his head then and she took a breath at the uncertainty in his eyes.  
But he shook his head. “Nothing. One minute.”  
She let it go. There was no time right now, and she could only hope that there would be later.  
“Thirty seconds to final turn. Adjust 65 degrees to starboard.”  
“65 degrees to starboard, check.”

They waited in tense silence for the clock to wind down, and Raquel’s gaze flitted between the speedometer, the chart and the view up ahead.  
“In five, four, three, two, one, and turn.”  
She spun the wheel for the sharp turn, and her heart leapt into her mouth as it felt as though the _Hanoi_ was sluggish to respond. But then it turned and they both held their breath, half-expecting to hear that dreaded tearing sound as the boat hit the rocks. But it never came. There was a slight tap against the stern but no tearing sound, and then they were clear. The open expanse of the Pacific waited for them, and they both laughed jubilantly. She barely had time to turn off the engine before Sergio grabbed her head and kissed her and she eagerly responded. He pulled back and grinned at her, before he turned serious. “Commence Phase Possum.”

_Previous day, before the storm  
_“How are we going to catch the pirates by surprise?” Raquel queried, worrying her lip with a thumb. She was on board with the plan to use the storm as cover, and to go through the Strait and then to set a trap for the pirates once they were in open water. But she wasn’t sure whether the element of surprise would be as big as Sergio anticipated. Surely the pirates would see the decision to run through the Strait as an attempt to escape, and that would alert them that their prey knew who was pursuing them. She mentioned as much and Sergio nodded.  
“We’re going to play dead.”  
“But-“ she frowned. “We’ll just have navigated the Strait. They’ll _know_ we’re not dead.”  
“Yes,” he agreed, as always impressed by her ability to spot any weakness in his plans. “Which is why we’ll make it look like the _boat_ is ‘dead’. By staging a little explosion once they’re close enough to hear it.”  
She began to smile. “And then?”  
“Then we pretend one of us was seriously injured in the explosion and we ask for their help. We invite them on board, where we’ll have a few surprises waiting.”  
Her smile turned into a grin; dear God, was she actually turned on right now? “I like it, Professor. And what’s the name of this phase?” He always gave every plan a name.  
He straightened proudly. “Possum.”  
“Possum,” she repeated, “very apt,” and gave in to the urge to grab him and kiss him.

_Present time_  
They had about fifteen minutes in which to set the stage before the pirates exited the Strait. Sergio had made a small smoke-bomb with the cordite from the emergency flares and now positioned it carefully over the engine hatch. Raquel was busy inside the cabin and when he came to the stairs she called out, “Careful! Keep to the extreme left.”  
She had a bucket in hand and was smearing the stairs with a colourless substance, and it filled the air with a fruity sweet smell. “How much of the fruit did you use for that?” he asked, and she grinned at him.  
“Don’t worry. We still have enough to stave off scurvy for the rest of the trip.”  
He made a face at her as she straightened up and stripped off the dishwashing gloves, then wiped sweat from her brow. “Are the guns in position?”  
“Yes.” He looked around the cabin. “I think we’re ready.”  
“Not quite.” She held up his bloodstained shirt. “You need to put this back on.”

She helped him take off the other one and ran tender fingers over the bruise on his left shoulder. “How’s your shoulder?”  
“It’s bearable,” he said honestly, and when she pressed a kiss to the injured flesh his heart lurched into his throat. _What the fuck was he doing?_ What had possessed him to put her in danger once more? He swallowed as he watched her carefully pull the stained shirt over his injured shoulder and begin to fasten the buttons. He did not deserve her.  
“Okay, now lie down,” she said briskly, but he grabbed both her hands and clutched them to his chest.  
“Raquel,” he breathed and she looked up into his eyes, then frowned at the anguish she saw there. “Be careful.”  
Her frown deepened; it was a bit bloody late for caution. What was _up_ with him? But once again there was no time to press him, so she lifted onto her toes and sought his lips in an attempt to reassure him. His arms went around her and he held her tightly, deepening the kiss, and she pressed against the length of his body. _There was no time_. She pulled back. “You too. Now come on, lie down. I need to take off the bandage and spread the fake blood.” She did not mention how much of the red fruit she had used to make the fake blood, and with a last squeeze of hands they parted.  
She positioned him carefully on the floor of the cabin, and then she went outside once more. The engine of the pirate boat was much louder and she took a steadying breath. Now, all they could do was trust in their plan and their abilities. With that thought she touched a lighter to the short fuse of the smoke-bomb and stepped into the wheelhouse. Seconds later there was a loud bang and a column of smoke rose up into the air.

_Two minutes later  
_When the pirate vessel exited the strait, it was greeted by the sight of the sailboat it had been chasing drifting, smoke rising into the air from the stern where the engine was situated. A woman appeared on deck, waving frantically. “Help! Please help me! My husband- oh, God, I need to use your radio to call for a medical evacuation. _Please_,” she begged, beside herself, and the five men on the other boat shared conspiratorial glances and congratulated themselves on this stroke of luck. Their boat had suffered some damage in the storm and they could no longer generate the same amount of speed, and for a while it had looked like the boat they had been chasing for the last two days would escape them. But instead it was falling into their laps like a ripe apple.  
“Yes, madam, we help,” the leader said as two of his men stepped up with grappling hooks and expertly threw it over the _Hanoi_’s railing, then drew the two boats alongside each other.  
“Our antenna was knocked down in the storm and we have lost all communications, and on top of that the engine blew a few minutes ago and a piece of shrapnel hit my husband in the head. I managed to get him to the cabin but he fell down the steps and he’s not moving, oh, God,” Raquel babbled to distract them as she took careful note of the position of each man. Four of them had moved to the rail, ready to board the _Hanoi._ There was Blackbeard (he had a long black beard), who seemed to be the leader, Smudge (who had a smear of oil on his cheek), Tall (he stood a head above the others) and Pudgy (slightly overweight). But one remained in the wheelhouse. Shit.

As the first of the men clambered over to the _Hanoi_ she saw a handgun stuffed into Tall’s trousers beneath his shirt, and the flow of adrenaline kicked up.  
“Where is your husband?” Blackbeard asked, and Raquel grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the stairs.  
“He’s down there, but please, I think he’s really badly hurt, can I call for help?”  
“Let me look first.”  
“What?! No, I want to use your radio _now_-“ She shut up as he suddenly produced a gun and pointed it at her face.  
“Quiet, bitch.” Pudgy stepped behind her as Blackbeard looked at the other two. “Check the rest of the boat,” he ordered before turning towards the cabin. “Bring her,” he said over his shoulder and Pudgy shoved her forward.

She followed close on Blackbeard’s heels as time seemed to slow down and her focus narrowed to only the two men close to her. _Just a few more steps_. He paused at the top of the stairs and looked into the cabin. Over his shoulder Raquel could see Sergio sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood by his head. _Come on, you bastard. Take one more step_. She could feel Pudgy’s body heat at her back – he was crowding her and she set her jaw in grim satisfaction. He’d be regretting that pretty soon. Blackbeard stepped onto the top stair and she kicked him viciously in the back of his knee, and his feet shot from under him on the slippery surface. As he began to pitch forward she grabbed for the gun taped to the inside of the cabin wall and ripped it free. Blackbeard tumbled down the stairs and landed with a thud next to Sergio, who rose to his knees and grabbed the man around his neck. Before Pudgy could blink Raquel had spun round, gun in hand, and jammed the barrel under his chin. His eyes were wide with surprise as he tried to grab for his own weapon, but she spoke with steely conviction.  
“Don’t. I will blow your head off if you try anything.”  
There was no doubting her sincerity and he released the butt and lifted his hands, his eyes darting around helplessly for his friends.  
“Down the stairs. Keep to the left,” she ordered, and as they went down she could see that Sergio had already rendered Blackbeard unconscious and was gagging him and tying his hands behind his back. He got to his feet and stepped behind Pudgy, and she watched has he did the same to him. “There’s two more on deck and one remained in the wheelhouse on their boat,” she quickly brought him up to speed. “Do we wait for them to come to the cabin?”  
Sergio considered, then shook his head. “No, we’ll lose the element of surprise.” He glanced at her. “We go after them on deck.”

They went up the stairs, guns in hand, and Raquel swept the stern before stepping out on deck. Sergio went left and she went right, and they circled around the wheelhouse to the bow. He saw his man a few feet in front, kneeling down by the front hatch, and he rushed up to him and grabbed him in a choke-hold. But even as he did so, he heard a loud warning shout come from the pirate boat. He looked up in alarm and saw a tall man wrestling with Raquel. He was slowly forcing the gun between them back onto her, and Sergio could see fear flash across her face. Oh, no. _No no no_. He pressed harder on the artery, but the man was taking forever to pass out. “Raquel! I’m coming!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet as soon as the man went limp. But he had barely done so when there was a loud bang and his heart stopped. _No_. The gunshot reverberated around the boat and it might as well have been fired right into his heart as he watched her fall to the deck.

He was too late. Once again, he was too late.

_tbc_


	6. Consequences

_Westley: “Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 3 of honeymoon  
__Mid-morning  
_Sergio’s world shattered into a million pieces as the shot went off. He started running across the deck, all his aches and pains forgotten as his right arm swung up with the gun. The tall man was crouched over Raquel’s body, her weapon in his hand, and she was not moving. He saw the most minute details in that terrible moment: her hair fanned across the deck, the strong profile of her face, the silver wedding ring flashing in the sun. The blood on her chest. _He_ had done this to her. He had talked her into this foolhardy venture, and this was the consequence. All the blame was on his shoulders. And it was because of his arrogance. She had been right; he had begun to believe the hype, to think that he could play Robin Hood, that he was smart enough to plan his way out of any situation. Now she was lying lifeless on the deck and no plan, no matter how ingenious, could bring her back. Paula would never hug her mother again, and Marivi would suffer every parent’s worst nightmare – to have their child die before them. And he would never kiss her, never make love to her, never get to tell her that he loved her more than life itself again. A red mist descended and he roared his grief to the heavens, and when the tall pirate looked up in surprise, Sergio pulled the trigger.

_Two minutes earlier  
_Raquel circled around the wheelhouse, the gun held in both hands in front of her. She trod carefully; she did not want to make any noise and lose the element of surprise. Her right forefinger rested along the barrel of the gun, ready to be slipped into the trigger guard as soon as she spotted her target. And there he was, Tall, about six metres in front of her, lifting the spare sails that were fastened along the railing to check beneath them. Her finger slid into the trigger guard as she came up behind him. But when she was about three metres from him, the worst happened. She was on the port side where the pirate boat was, and the man that had stayed behind saw her. He shouted a warning to his comrade and Tall spun round, his own weapon in his hand, and then they were on top of each other. She swung her gun and caught him with the barrel across the knuckles of his gun-hand. He cried out in pain as the weapon clattered to the deck and blood spurted from his hand and onto her shirt. Before she could bring her own gun up again he grabbed for it and a struggle ensued.

She tried with all her might to turn the barrel into his chest, ready to squeeze the trigger, but he was stronger than her. His face came down close to hers, a grimace of pain and anger distorting his features, and his foul breath washed over her. She attempted to bring her knee up into his groin but he side-stepped her, so she stomped down on his instep instead and he hissed in pain. _Take that, motherfucker_. He began to force the gun back in her direction and pain radiated through her left wrist as it was bent back unnaturally, and she had to let go with a gasp of agony. Triumph flashed in his eyes and she felt fear for the first time. He was going to shoot her. She could not overpower him and soon he would have turned the gun into her chest and then he would pull the trigger. _Think_. The certainty of her fate gave her a spurt of extra strength and she wrenched the gun downwards and pulled the trigger. The shock of the recoil reverberated through her arm but she had no idea where the bullet had gone. She heard a grunt from Tall and then they were falling, both of them losing their footing on the deck that was suddenly slippery with blood. He fell on her with his full weight and knocked the breath from her lungs. She lay there, stunned, unable to move or breathe, and he rose above her, her gun suddenly in his hand. She stared up into his face, aware that this was the end, and felt regret that the last thing she would see was a pirate’s hate-filled eyes. There was a roar to her right, like that of a wounded animal, and her heart broke. _I’m sorry, Sergio. So sorry, Paula and Mama._ She heard the shot, but she felt nothing. And then, to her surprise, Tall toppled backwards and off her.

Before she could fully process what had happened, Sergio loomed above her, his expression contorted with rage as he lifted the gun again, intent on finishing off the pirate. She saw his finger tighten around the trigger and their earlier conversation flashed through her mind once more: _When I thought the Police had executed you during the second heist, I wished more than life itself to be the one in that bank to shoot the RPG-7 at them. To hurt them, like they had hurt you._ Raquel battled desperately for breath. _No, Sergio, don’t do it. Don’t execute him._ She couldn’t get out any sound and in desperation kicked out with her leg. The movement caught his eye and he hesitated, and finally she managed to draw sweet oxygen into her lungs.  
“Don’t,” she gasped, and his head snapped to her. The expression on his face almost killed her; desolate and barren, and she said, “_Sergio,_” to try and get through to him. _I’m alive, darling. Come back to me_. And a second later he did. His eyes flooded with relief and hope and love, and he dropped to his knees beside her and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He couldn’t say anything, but she saw tears slipping down his cheeks and reached out a hand to grip his arm. Tall was lying on his back, blood oozing from his right shoulder and his foot, unconscious but breathing, and she remembered where they were and what was happening. “Sergio, the last one,” she reminded him urgently, and no sooner had she done so than a bullet smacked into the wheelhouse behind them.

Sergio froze, but Raquel’s training kicked in immediately. She dragged him down to the deck with her and they took shelter behind the solid part of the railing. She looked around, considering their options, then turned to Sergio. “I’ll go for the automatic and put down covering fire; you need to get over to their boat and put that guy out of action. Can you do that?”  
He nodded and she squeezed his hand and then she was off, leopard-crawling to the stern where they’d hidden the automatic rifle. Sergio cautiously lifted his head above the railing to study the layout of the pirate boat and immediately a bullet whistled by, missing him by inches. “Ahh! Fuck.” He ducked back down and looked towards Raquel, who had reached the fire extinguisher near the engine hatch. She scrabbled behind it and brought the rifle from its hiding place. Their eyes met and she nodded once, and then she lifted onto her knee and brought the rifle to her shoulder in one smooth motion.

As soon as she began to rake the pirate vessel with bullets, Sergio bounded to his feet and scrambled over the railing. The windows of the wheelhouse shattered under the onslaught and he heard a cry of pain. He flattened himself against the deck and began to crawl around the wheelhouse to where he thought the pirate was taking shelter. _Keep going, Raquel_. She kept firing in short bursts, careful not to overheat the rifle, as he reached the corner of the wheelhouse and peered around it. The last pirate was huddled against the wall, desperately trying to reload his gun, blood streaming from a cut on his cheek. Sergio lunged for him.

Raquel saw him make his move and stopped firing. She looked towards Tall, who was still lying motionless, and rushed over to the pirate boat, automatic at the ready. As she rounded the wheelhouse she saw the two men wrestling and brought up the gun. “Freeze!” she yelled as loudly as she could, and the pirate did so in surprise. That gave Sergio his chance and he grabbed for the man’s neck and began to exert pressure on the artery.  
“Who are you?” the pirate managed to gasp, and Raquel grinned at him, euphoric. _They’d done it_.  
“We are the Resistance,” she told him, her gaze locking onto Sergio’s, and then the man passed out.

_Twenty minutes later  
_The Philippine Coast Guard picked up an emergency signal from the south entrance of the Tandubatu Strait and the nearest patrol boat rushed to the scene, expecting yet another victim of the strait’s treacherous waters. And indeed, when they reached the scene they found a boat drifting aimlessly. But on closer inspection they realised that this was another scenario altogether. When they boarded it, they found five men bound and gagged on the deck and the boat riddled with bullet holes. One of the men had been shot in the shoulder and the foot, and his wounds had been bandaged to prevent him from bleeding out. It took the Coast Guard a few minutes, but they soon realised that the boat and men matched the description of the pirates that had been plaguing the region for more than a year. When they tried to question the pirates on what had happened, however, they refused to talk. The Philippine authorities were not too bothered about that; whoever had done it had done them a huge favour, and they were not about to waste any of their meagre resources on finding and punishing those people.

Sergio and Raquel listened to the excited chatter of the Coast Guard on the radio. Once they had transferred all the pirates back onto their own boat and treated the injured man, they had disabled the pirates’ engine and got out of there. They had motored around Taruk Island and dropped anchor in a secluded inlet of one of the uninhabited atolls that dotted that part of the ocean. They had to take stock of the damage to their own boat and to clean up the mess. Now that it was over and the adrenaline was no longer pumping through their bodies, they were both exhausted and felt every ache and pain. They needed rest, and had agreed to stay there for a day or two until they had recovered. Then they would decide whether to head for home or to continue with their original plan to sail around Tawi-Tawi.

Once she had cleaned up the stairs and the floor of the cabin, Raquel went to look for Sergio. He had been strangely quiet; there had been no celebration of their success and she wasn’t sure whether it was due to pain and fatigue, or whether there was something else bothering him. It was beginning to get on her nerves; she had thought that they were past these silent stonewalls after the second heist, that they were now able to communicate properly with each other. Well, she had had enough of it, so she cornered him where he was scrubbing the pirate’s blood from the deck.  
“Sergio.”  
He looked up at her, his face drawn and pale, and worry began to gnaw at her stomach. She wavered; he looked so tired that she momentarily considered leaving it for another day, when they were both more rested. But if her disastrous previous marriage had taught her anything, it was that nothing good ever came of postponing important discussions, that it was better to clear the air as soon as an issue cropped up. If left to fester, it tended to poison every part of a relationship and she didn’t want that. Not with him.  
“What’s bothering you?” she asked straight-out, and he flinched as though she had slapped him.  
“Nothing. Just tired,” he deflected, and worry and fear made her angry.  
“For fuck’s sake,” she exclaimed, “don’t do that. Don’t try to fob me off with that ‘nothing’ bullshit.”  
Her anger riled him too. “Not now, Raquel,” he snapped back. “Can we go for one goddamn day without dissecting _everything_?”  
She stared at him, stunned. And a little hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“It means I don’t want to discuss every single damn feeling I have, all the time,” he ground out between clenched teeth and she stepped back, stung.  
This was so unlike him that she didn’t respond immediately. Nothing would be gained by trying to score petty points back. She took a deep breath and deliberately lowered her tone of voice. “I don’t think that’s fair,” she said and he closed his eyes, contrite. It wasn’t, and he was well aware of that fact. The next moment he felt her hands on his cheeks, and he opened his eyes again to find her gazing at him with concern. “Darling. What’s going on?” she pleaded, and it was the endearment that was his undoing.  
His face crumpled and he laid a hand over hers as he asked in a dull voice, “When are you going to tell me that you’re leaving me?”

_tbc_


	7. Pledge

_“There have been five great kisses since 1642 B.C when Saul and Delilah Korn’s inadvertent discovery swept across Western civilisation. (Before then couples hooked thumbs.) And the precise rating of kisses is a terribly difficult thing, often leading to great controversy, because although everyone agrees with the formula of affection times purity times intensity times duration, no one has ever been completely satisfied with how much weight each element should receive. But on any system, there are five that everyone agrees deserve full marks. Well, this one left them all behind.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

_Day 3 of honeymoon  
__Late afternoon  
_Raquel was shocked into silence. What the hell…? What on _earth_? Her hands dropped from his face and she stepped back. “I’m sorry?” she blurted, certain that she must have misheard.  
He straightened his back. “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” he reiterated, now seemingly resigned to his fate, and she floundered, totally lost.  
“What- Why- What gave you _that_ idea?”  
He looked away over the ocean. “I almost got you killed, Raquel. Again.”  
When she just stared at him wordlessly, he elaborated. “Sooner or later you’ll decide this life isn’t for you, that Paula deserves better than parents who recklessly put their lives in danger, and you’ll leave me.” His gaze dropped down to his hands. “And you’d be right – she does deserve better.”

Understanding dawned, and her heart broke for him but swelled with love at the same time. He looked so forlorn that she had to fight the urge to take him into her arms. They needed to clear the air first, to reach an understanding, before she could give in to that urge. Because once she did, there was unlikely to be much talking done. She took a step closer to him and said gently, “Please look at me.” She waited until his eyes lifted to hers before she continued, emphasizing every word. “I’m not leaving you. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you understand?”  
She could see the struggle in his eyes as his heart warred with his head. His heart wanted to believe her, but his head kept telling him it wasn’t true. So she smiled and took his hand. “Do you know what I suspect is happening?” she asked. “You are beginning to think like a parent, and that is a scary place to see the world from. Believe me, I know.” She sat down next to him so she could look him in the eye. “You’re a father now, Sergio, and that can sometimes feel like an overwhelming responsibility.”

His thumb traced over her knuckles and he relaxed slightly, but he remained troubled. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that I talked you into taking on the pirates, and that you were almost killed. God, both of us were almost killed.”  
She nodded. “Yes. But there’s a difference between taking a calculated risk and simply being reckless. We weighed up the odds and we knew we had a fighting chance of pulling it off. There’s one thing I’m certain of, and that is that you would never have attempted it if you thought we had no chance. And neither would I.”  
“But don’t you feel guilty?” he countered, still not completely at ease.  
“Oh, I used to, all the time.” She took a moment to order her thoughts. “I was a police officer, remember. That meant that every day I went to work there was a chance that I wouldn’t come back. That I would leave Paula without a mother.” She sighed. “It used to eat at me, and for a while after she was born I seriously considered resigning.”  
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, and she smiled.  
“Because I loved my job – well, back then, at least. And because I realised that giving it up would not guarantee that I would be there for my daughter forever – I could just as easily be killed in a car accident going to the corner café to buy bread.” She squeezed his hand. “Do you understand? You can’t stop living just because you are a parent now. If you do, it’ll just make you unhappy, and it’s very difficult to be a good parent when you’re unhappy.”

Sergio sighed heavily and nodded, mollified, but she was not yet done. “Oh, and so we’re clear: you didn’t talk me into anything.”  
He frowned. “But I did.”  
“No, you didn’t. I realised something about myself on this trip – I have just as much of a taste for adventure as you do.” She grinned at him. “Have you not noticed how turned on we both get by doing these things? Especially when we do them together?”  
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “A bit, yes,” he admitted, and her grin turned into a smirk.  
“Then why would we give that up? We’d both be miserable, and that would not do Paula any good.”  
Still he hesitated. “You’re sure?”  
“Yes.” She laid a hand against his chest, over his heart. “Tell you what, we’ll make a pledge to each other here, today. That we’ll never change who we are. That we’ll continue to have these adventures, but that we both have the right to say no to any proposed venture if we feel the odds are too high. And if one of us does say no to something, that we don’t hold it against each other. We accept it and move on. Deal?”  
And for the first time he smiled, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Deal.”  
They sealed the pledge with a kiss, but when he tried to deepen it she pulled back. “I love you and I want you, but we both stink to high heaven and we’re exhausted. Let’s shower and get some sleep, and then, when we’re properly rested, we can shag each other’s brains out, hmm?”  
He laughed, as always amazed by her straightforward attitude to sex, and let her pull him up by the hand. “Yes. This is, after all, our honeymoon,” he pointed out, and she laughed out loud as they walked to the cabin.

_Five days later  
__Late night_  
There was a full moon and they sat out on deck with all the lights off and enjoyed the view. Raquel was curled into his side and he tightened his arm around her and nuzzled the side of her head, and she smiled up at him. They had rounded Tawi-Tawi Island and were on their way home, and barring any further unforeseen weather or adventures, would reach Palawan in another two days. She’d washed her hair earlier and he buried his nose in it, and she pressed closer to him in response. The moonlight turned her skin to marble and he drank her in, his goddess, his Venus. God, he wanted her tonight. He was almost trembling with the force of his desire, and he wanted nothing more than to take off the flowing white dress she was wearing and to lay her out on the deck, naked, so that the moonlight could touch every part of her. His hand burrowed under her hair and caressed the nape of her neck, and she hummed and turned her head to look at him. The moonlight glinted off her nose-stud and he lowered his lips to hers, and she welcomed his tongue into her mouth with a sigh. They kissed for minutes on end, still as enamoured with each other as the very first time they had done this, until his hand found the zipper at the back of her dress and drew it down and she smiled into the kiss. He felt her fingers fumbling with his shirt buttons in response, and his cock sprang to attention at the first contact of her warm skin with his. They had made love already after their pirate adventure, multiple times, but those sessions had been tender and careful as they had to mind their various injuries. Tonight, though, tonight would be different, he suspected. Tonight they were going to shag each other’s brains out, as she had put it so eloquently, and he couldn’t wait. Maybe it was all those oysters they’d had for dinner.

His hands trailed down from where they’d been buried in her hair, along her neck and to her shoulders, and pushed the dress off. It fell to her waist and he pulled back to admire her naked breasts. Whilst he loved taking lingerie off her, nothing turned him on more than the realisation that she was probably fully naked under the dress. One hand skimmed down, brushing a hardening nipple, then over her stomach and down to her knee, where he gathered the material and pushed it up her thigh until he reached his goal. Oh God, he found only warm flesh and wet arousal, and he gasped into her mouth. She flicked her tongue over his and pushed herself wantonly against his hand, and he obliged her by slipping first one, then two fingers inside. Her head fell back, breaking the kiss, and he bent down to latch onto her breast instead. A soft “Ah!” escaped her and her hands wove into his hair, massaging his scalp as he sucked to the same rhythm his fingers were working inside her. Her legs spread wider, bunching the dress around her middle as she eagerly thrust onto his hand, her juices flowing down his fingers. He wanted to taste her so badly, but first he was going to do his utmost to make her come with his fingers. His thumb found her clit, and one of her hands flew down to grasp his wrist and direct him until he was right where she wanted him, and then he pressed down at the same time as he licked her nipple, slow and hard. She shattered with a low, drawn out moan, and he laid her down on the long seat and shifted down to catch her essence with his mouth.

His tongue began to work her almost immediately and she squirmed and gripped his hair. “Wait,” she panted, “need a minute.”  
When he looked up at her with some concern, she ran a hand over his cheek and slipped her thumb between his lips. “Still coming a bit,” she clarified, and he felt ten feet tall. He sucked on her digit and took the time to pull the dress off fully. He wanted to see all of her in the moonlight. She eventually sat up and pulled at his shirt, and he helped her to undress him. When they were both naked, she laid back down and looked at him through her lashes. “Now. Where were we?”  
He grinned and slipped to his knees beside the bench, and took an ankle in each hand and hooked her legs over his shoulders. “I believe right… here,” he said, pressing his mouth to her entrance on the last syllable, and her back arched off the bench when he thrust his tongue inside her.  
“Sergio,” she moaned, writhing under his ministrations, her heels digging into his back and her hands fisting in his hair, “Oh… Yes. Right there. That is so good,” she encouraged, and he thrust once more, his hands gripping her hips and keeping her at the right angle. She bucked against his face, unable to restrain herself. “I’m going to fuck you just the way you want when it’s your turn,” she vowed, almost incoherent from the pleasure he was giving her, and he felt himself become almost painfully hard in response. Everything was forgotten but him and her and love and their carnal dance. A few more thrusts and she came again, her juices running onto his waiting tongue, and he lapped it up eagerly. Then he rested his chin on her thigh, gently stroking her stomach, and waited for her to come back to earth.

She was so beautiful. His gaze devoured her body, tracing up her legs, over her mound, her curls glistening with her arousal (he had done that), her belly and perfect breasts, the nipples standing proudly to attention (he had done that, too), to her graceful neck and glorious hair. She was Venus, and Aphrodite and Juliet and all those other literary characters that represented the allure of women, and he worshipped at her feet. When his eyes traced over her face he found her looking at him, and all he saw was unfettered love and desire. He really was the luckiest man in the world. “Your turn,” she said and sat up, reaching for him. “Tell me,” she invited, and he gulped at the feeling of her fingers squeezing his length.  
What he wanted was to bury himself as deep as possible inside her and to watch her eyes darken and her mouth fall open and her hair tumble over her shoulders, and to feel her nipples brush against his chest with every thrust. And he could have all of that whilst fulfilling the fantasy that had entered his head as soon as he’d stood in the wheelhouse next to her for the first time, and saw that the chair was at the height of his groin. “Pilot chair,” he rasped, voice hoarse with arousal, and scooped her up to carry her to the wheelhouse. Her eyes flashed and she latched onto his mouth, kissing him deeply, and he knew then that she had entertained the same fantasy.

He deposited her on the chair and she immediately wrapped her legs around his hips to draw him in, so that she could rub herself against his length, spreading her wetness over him. Her hands clasped at the back of his neck and he tumbled into the brown depths of her eyes as she gazed at him. “Take me,” she offered, and the trust imbedded in those two words rocked him to his soul. And then her hand was between them, and she ran a finger down his length before it wrapped around him and guided him to her entrance. He pushed inside and her head fell back, and she breathed deeply as he filled her. After a few moments she pressed her cheek against his and murmured, “Let go, darling. This once, take everything you want.”

It was as good as they had both imagined. Because of his standing position he could drive into her hard, and she could brace her feet against the instrument panel behind him and meet him thrust for thrust. They clung to each other, revelling in their closeness and being able to look at each other as he buried himself deep inside her with every thrust. His pubic bone rubbed against her clit and her breasts pressed against his chest to add to the stimulation, and he lost control. He pounded into her until all he could hear was her gasp of ecstasy with each thrust, and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. It was almost an out of body experience and he could not catalogue all the sensations, there were just too many. There was her skin under his hands, turning slick with sweat, the blush spreading over her breasts, her hair tickling his arms as he clutched her to him. There was the roar of his blood in his veins, the thundering of his heart in his chest, her breath hot in his mouth as they almost kissed. There was her heel pressing into his buttock and her wetness running down his thighs and her pubic hair scraping against his scrotum and-  
He fell over the edge, his orgasm ripping through him, and she tightened her legs and arms around him and held him up as he emptied himself into her. And the sensation of him coming hard inside her triggered her own release, her muscles spasming around his cock. They stayed locked together as the waves washed over them, holding onto each other for dear life, and he buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes. She was his harbour, his love, his life. Nothing else mattered.

_One hour later_  
They were sprawled on the bench seat in the stern, stark naked under the stars, lying contentedly in each other’s arms. He had slumbered for a while, worn out after that epic session of lovemaking, but now he was awake and simply enjoying the feeling of her naked body against his. How strange fate was, he marvelled, to bring him here, so utterly happy and alive; so different from the man who had never allowed himself to live at all before he had met Raquel. Andres had been right that day at the monastery, when he’d told his little brother that he had been living without enjoyment. He’d often wondered what Andres and Raquel would have made of each other, but he thought that his brother would at least have been grateful to her for teaching Sergio what it meant to truly live. And suddenly he was overwhelmed by the urge to tell her that. So he did. “Raquel?” he said, and she lifted her head to look at him.  
“Yes?”  
And he told her what he had been thinking about.

She listened closely, her hand tracing patterns through his chest hair, and when he was done she craned her neck to press a kiss to his mouth, overcome. Then she said, “You’ve done the same for me, you know.” When he frowned she added, “I forgot how to truly live for a while. But you gave it back to me, and I love you so much for that.”  
“How do you mean?” he asked, and she sighed.  
“I thought about it the other day, when I realised how much I enjoyed adventure. When I was younger, before I met Alberto, I went on trips, I had adventures, and even as a cop I was brave and bold. I wasn’t reckless or anything, but I enjoyed life and I wasn’t scared.” Her voice saddened. “And then I fell for this charming guy, and I lost all of that.” Sergio tightened his arms around her, but didn’t interrupt. “He- I don’t know, slowly suffocated me, drained me of all my self-belief. I used to face dangerous criminals and large men hopped up on drugs as a young police officer without batting an eye. And even though I got the shit kicked out of me once or twice, I never doubted myself or became afraid. Until _he_ came into my life.” Her hand clasped at his chest and he stroked down her back soothingly. “Isn’t it strange?” she mused. “The blows I received from him was nothing compared to some of the beatings I took as a cop, and yet his were the ones that totally destroyed me. That made me afraid of _everything_.” She smiled bitterly. “The therapist said it’s because it came from someone who was supposed to love me and protect me. But I think it had more to do with the fact that I made such an error in judgement.”  
“How do you mean?”  
“I’m a trained psychologist, for God’s sake, and I never saw him for what he was until it was too late. Until he had chipped away at my foundations so much that I had no power to stand up to him. How could I not have seen what type of a man he was? And if I could make such an error, how could I trust myself or my judgement in any situation? Anyway. Enough of that.” She reached up a hand to caress his face. “You gave my self-belief back to me, so thank you.” She pulled his head down and they kissed deeply, sealing the bond between them once more, enjoying life to the fullest, together.

_Two days later  
_They had barely docked and tied down the _Hanoi_ when Paula came bounding up the jetty. “Mama!” she yelled exuberantly and jumped over the railing.  
Raquel laughed and scooped her up, peppering her face with kisses. “Hello, baby. I missed you. How was your outreach?”  
“It was good. Hello, Sergio.”  
“Hello kiddo,” he smiled and came over to hug his two girls, who were still holding each other.  
“And how was the boat trip? Did you have fun?” Paula asked.  
Raquel studiously avoided eye contact with Sergio. “Oh yes, great fun,” she said and plonked Paula back down. “Come on, I want to go and say hi to Grandmama,” she said and turned away.  
But Paula didn’t follow immediately. She looked at the _Hanoi’_s wheelhouse and frowned. “What made those holes in the boat?” she asked curiously, and Sergio and Raquel looked at each other in consternation.  
“Er…” Sergio said, and the corners of Raquel’s mouth began to twitch.  
“Don’t you mean _harr_?”

_Fin_

_“It appears to me as if we’re doomed, then,” Buttercup said._  
_Westley looked at her. “Doomed, madam?”_  
_“To be together. Until one of us dies.”_  
_“I’ve done that already, and I haven’t the slightest intention of ever doing it again,” Westley said._  
_Buttercup looked at him. “Don’t we sort of have to sometime?”_  
_“Not if we promise to outlive each other, and I make that promise now.”_  
_Buttercup looked at him. “Oh my Westley, so do I.”  
_ ** _William Goldman, The Princess Bride_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


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